Greyhaven had become a city of silence and fear.
Even the wind seemed to pause as it swept through the streets, carrying whispers of the Wolf's unseen presence.
Aren moved through the palace corridors alone.
No guards needed. No courtiers dared approach.
The kingdom itself obeyed him—not by law, not by sword, but by shadow and inevitability.
Lysa and Caelis met him at the cathedral.
"The east still murmurs, though quietly," Lysa said.
"They whisper of rebellion… but no one dares act."
Aren nodded.
"Good. Fear must be constant. Obedience is strongest when hope of rebellion dies slowly, not suddenly. Shadows must be ever-present."
In the palace, Rowan paced the floors, haunted by the realization:
The crown could not save him.
All his alliances, his armies, his schemes—each had been quietly dismantled, woven into the Wolf's web before he even knew they existed.
Aren's hand rested on the windowsill overlooking the city.
"The kingdom bends willingly… yet they believe they still have choice. That is the heart of shadows," he murmured.
Caelis added quietly, "Every step they take is guided… every thought watched."
"Yes," Aren said, voice low and cold. "They are free only in illusion. The Wolf's power is not visible. It is felt. It is feared. And it is absolute."
Outside, Greyhaven slept under a blanket of unease.
The lords whispered in secret chambers, merchants moved carefully, and even the streets obeyed without command.
The Wolf had risen.
But in the heart of the kingdom, shadows thrived, and fear had become the true crown.